


The Guilty Sorcerer

by Linz2



Category: Doctor Strange (movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16052129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linz2/pseuds/Linz2
Summary: After fighting a house-sized demon, the natural elements of life may be what do in Stephen and his Cloak.





	The Guilty Sorcerer

In New York, it was the night of the day that Stephen had warded off Dormammu. He had changed into pajamas, and was sitting in a comfy chair by the fireplace. A cup of boiling hot tea rested in his weary hands. The Cloak of Levitation floated around the Sanctum as it pleased. It seemed restless. Maybe it had some form of sleeping, but even if it did, it wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, and neither would Stephen.

 

Stephen lifted the tea to his mouth, breathing in the calming scent. The flames reflected in the tea, which was still bubbling from heat. Soaked in fiery colors from the light, the tea reminded Stephen of the patches of boiling orange slime he had found in the Dark Dimension. Several times during their standoff, Dormammu had shoved him into the patches, burning him alive. Stephen shuddered, placing the tea on a nearby table. Casting his gaze at the fire, he was content, until his eyes saw those flames sprouting like hair from Dormammu’s face. Yelping, he fell out of the chair, while his surroundings returning to normal. He breathed in slowly, before turning the lights on and putting out the fire. He’d had more than his fair share of darkness.

 

His mind drifted back to what Mordo had said after their victory. There was a truth to it, Stephen had potentially wreaked havoc on the flow of time. The alternative would have been much worse, he reasoned, but would that work as an excuse every time? He was now master of the New York Sanctum, meaning he was in charge of apprehending mystical threats in Greenland and the Americas. If he was really committed to this new job, he would have to be ready to make sacrifices. He had already given up his own life thousands of times today, but what about in the future? What if it was other people’s lives he’d have to sacrifice, for the greater good? The very thought of it horrified the man who had just fought a demon.

 

Stephen forced his eyes shut, trying to quiet his mind and get whatever rest he could. Who could he turn to for help right now? Christine would either be busy working the night shift or fast asleep at home, and pretty much everyone else from Kamar-Taj was in Hong Kong with Wong, making sure nobody there retained memories of the day’s bizarre events. Maybe he could try and contact Pangborn? He owed that man much, after all. No, Pangborn would probably be asleep right now. He was alone for the night, and it was the worst night to be alone.

 

Loud noises and flashes of light jolted Stephen awake. He could hear Dormammu’s enraged roars and see bursts of energy flaring towards him. Then he turned to see it was the thunderstorm outside. The same storm that he had watched with the Ancient One as she died.

 

Stephen was gasping for air now, extremely on edge. The Cloak watched him from afar, jumping back in shock when he opened the window and screamed at the sky. Tears and raindrops moistened the dried blood on his face, and a watery red mix of the three began to drip down his face. He nearly jumped in shock when the Cloak touched his shoulder. He whipped around, panting. It was drooping, its stitches starting to loosen from personal stress.

 

Stephen sighed, running his hand along the neck of the Cloak’s fabric. He had forgotten that the Cloak had died with him in the Dark Dimension, each and every time. He felt comforted when the Cloak settled on his shoulders, and this time he allowed it to wipe the blood, rain, and tears from his face. He let himself float into the air, as they both began to relax. It was the perfect time for them to grieve their own deaths.


End file.
